Ephemeral Maelstrom
by Hegira Figment
Summary: Xigbar revisits the Castle that Never Was and reminiscences over his times in the former Organization XIII.
1. Chapter 1

**I own nothing of** **Kingdom** **Hearts. All rights belong to Square Enix and Disney.**

 **A/N: Originally, I intended for this to be a one-shot, but seeing how long it was, I had to divide the content into chapters. This story will be about 4-5 chapters long. Hope you enjoy!**

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Rain poured upon a city that harbored no denizens, save for a man that was obscured by the hood of his black coat. The world would have been pitch-dark if it weren't for the neon lights and signs that were planted on the towering buildings and skyscrapers; though the man had traversed throughout this world countless of times, even calling it his 'home' once, and grimly thought as he strodded down the empty, puddle-lined streets that he was fully capable of reaching his sojourned abode blindfolded.

The notion made his skin crawl.

Ten long years... A decade, of withstanding a hollow shell of his former self- no doubt his mistakes. Yet after regaining what he had lost, he chose to give it away again; without a moment's deliberation! He then remembered his incentive for all his imbecilic antics and abominable deeds, and clenched his jaw, from both the memory and the rain.

The differencing lines between Braig and him were growing very, very thin.

Xigbar wondered if there had even been a dichotomy in the first place.

Passing the Skyscraper of Memories and the Dark City, the Freeshooter decided to not warp, but rather to witness his 'home' from nadir to zenith. To commemorate the oh, so fortunate fact that nobody no longer dwelled within their empty fortress? All the members, save for Xemnas and Saïx, were now reunited with their hearts- no longer Nobodies. Able to feel the myriad of emotions that they had longed for at last.

In Saïx's case.. it was quite an anathema. The Luna Diviner, by Xigbar's memory, was the most desperate of the lot to regain his heart; his impetus for everything: stooping below Xemnas and becoming his lapdog, severing his lingering bonds with the Flurry of Dancing Flames, intentional or not. And despite all he had done, more of which Xigbar couldn't recall at the moment, the celestial Moon hadn't grant him his orison.

Not to mention he was turned into a Vessel of Xehanort right after he gained what he had sought for so long...

Arriving at the Brink of Despair, The Castle that Never Was, hovered afloat in the air as it always had. Asymmetrical tower-like structures jutted out with the infamous Nobody sigil engraved on them. Xigbar walked towards the edge of the precarious cliff, eyeing the behemoth-sized abyss that emanated an ominous teal hue below him. Stepping to the right, a bright cerulean pathway was invoked in front of him and connected to a red circular lock that changed to green once fully forged.

He walked in a lackadaisical gait towards the Castle, taking off his hood and pulling out his ponytail when he had entered Nothing's Call. The blotchy, discolored scar on the left side of his face looked as if it were crawling towards his yellow eye. The Freeshooter vividly remembered his- well, Braig's fight with the fallen Keyblade Wielder. Him foolishly underestimating the Keyblade's power resulted in an aftermath that consisted of breaking a few ribs, losing his right eye, and the damned scar on his cheek- completely marring his once youthful and attractive face. "Could've been worse. Could've lost both my eyes," Xigbar murmured to himself, in hopes of lifting his abjectness.

Like the rest of the Castle, presumably, Nothing's Call remained unchanged nor hindered, aside from the dents on the floor from the Keyblade Wielder's blade as he and his companions ventured their way up their domain. The compartment was the standard pale grey colour with arbitrary placings of computer chip structures. Why the World was without Nobodies and Heartless swarming about was a mystery even to Xigbar. It had been less than two weeks since the Keyblade Wielder stormed into their bastion and 'annihilated' the remainder of the Organization. He recalled the diabolic witch and her accomplice joining the battle against the bestial monsters..

Nothing's Call held no further attention to him as he made his way to Crooked Ascension, though he recalled certain times where he would warp to the location in search of time alone. Now, anytime and anywhere in the castle was void of inhabitants, always time and space to be alone.

Disembarking the elevator, Xigbar fixated his gaze on the black bottomless depths through the glassed stairway as he trudged up the steps in Twilight's View. Memories of him conversing with the Cloaked Schemer, condescendingly rebuking the Melodious Nocturne for failing to meet quota during an excursion to the Olympus Coliseum, acclimating the newly recruited Gambler of Fate to his new home, and pulling disapproving antics on his fellow cohorts, returned to the nebulous pool of Xigbar's mind. He rubbed a spot above his left eyebrow to soothe the maelstrom residing in his head as he made way to his death place.

Of all the locations in the Castle that Never Was that Xigbar wanted to revisit, the Hall of Empty Melodies was veritably high on the list. Shutting the door behind him, the Sniper noted how the room possessed more color than the entire castle. The singular long flooring was of cobalt hue that led to the enormous rectangular platform which was rimmed with a pale-blue color. Here this place had served as the Organization's combat-training station for the members and lesser Nobodies.

White wings rested on the walls on either side of the balcony that he once stood upon, eliminating the hordes of Heartless that had swarmed the Chosen One. Xigbar walked to the exact spot where he had 'died' and stared for Kingdom Hearts knows how long. Prior to him initiating battle with the Keyblade Wielder, he, obviously being Xemnas' right-hand henchman, knew very, very well that their dying would not conclude to that abysmal oblivion that they had feared. The reason why he had chosen to engage battle with the young adolescent was not only to abrade and confound the boy, but because he had been ordered to awaken first to 'set the real gears in motion', as Xigbar titled it as.

Yet, what if. What if he weren't Xehanort's accomplice? What if he wasn't Number II? What if he hadn't known Xemnas' true goals like the rest of the Organization? What if their dying DID conclude to that abysmal oblivion?

He sneered in disgust and abhorrence.

"As if," he spat with venom in his voice and yellow iris, storming his way towards the next room where his anger was diminished the nanosecond he stepped foot into the graveyard after violently slamming the entrance door open.

Proof of Existence.


	2. Chapter 2

**I own nothing of Kingdom Hearts. All rights belong to Square Enix and Disney.**

 **A/N: School, procrastination, and sicknesses have been keeping me away. I write/post this abed. Hope you enjoy!**

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Goosebumps formed on Xigbar's arms as he stared at the twelve tombstones with the door behind him creakily swaying back and forth like a metronome until it ceased in movement. He detested this place with his whole nonbeing.

An eerie violet and fuchsia fog glided in the room soundlessly. At first he thought he was hearing things, but as he listened intently, the Freeshooter could almost hear the cries of a thousands souls roaming the area, lamenting the fallen who could produce nor pronounce their misery no more. It sent a shiver down his spine.

Three graves of the twelve shone blue against the outnumbering red markers. Xemnas, being the abstruse Nobody he was, had decided to further his lies to his disciples, thus creating the Proof of Existence that he himself sculpted. Despite being skeptical over the matter, Xigbar had complied with no verbal opposition. Staring down at his own grave had always set him off the edge, and truthfully, he wasn't entirely keen on the fact that Xemnas possessed no grave, while he did. Superior or neophyte, this was Proof of Existence.

"Who you are holds no ground, whether you're dead or alive does," Xigbar sardonically muttered to either himself or the graves as he moved away from the entrance.

Three steps.

He was deliberating on whether he should warp now. This would be painful, he knew it. He knew that somewhere in this room, pain will pound in his chest, attempting to break free of it's incarceration. It had almost felt as if the fog was seeping through his coat and into his skin where all the 'emotion' that he hated such as regret was being injected into his core. He loathed how sentimental he was being. The emptiness in his chest felt heavier than usual, and he hated it. Maybe that's why he filled his lungs with laughter; to shake his body with a contradicting force against the hollowness. Where was the Xigbar that he knew? The one who laughed too loudly, cracked the crudest jokes, the carefree and pranking Nobody he was? He needed to be him. He so desperately needed to be like him right now, so why? Where is he? He searched his mind for an answer, but to no avail.

But Braig knew. Not all days are you who you are.

Xigbar sighed. He hadn't had a day like this in a long time.

"Alright," he said in a tremulous voice that reverberated in the graveyard. "Time to pay my respects- whether you bastards want it or not." Xigbar wouldn't have wanted it, if he were them; but there was a part of him that knew he'd never be able to apologize to their Somebodies, who are alive- thanks to their dying. It's much easier to apologize to someone who's not listening, after all.

One step, two step.

The Gunsman cast a gaze on the trio of markers.

The Chakrams, the Sitar, and the Cards lied on his left.

All red.

Deriving from the reason that Braig was well-acquainted with his counterpart, he had welcomed the boy with a pat on the shoulder, saying what 'misfortunate fortune' it was to encounter each-other in the second life- to which caused the pyromanic to smirk grimly. Once the lacuna had fleeted, his above-board persona returned, though not quite the same as it had once been.

Flamesilocks was the name he had so thoughtfully given to him, despite a small amount of arguments here and there, although they were on good terms. Xigbar was well aware that the duo- the Diviner and the Flurry- were concocting a plan to undermine the Organization, but from the enlistment of the 13th member and on, the camaraderie between the two had greatly diminished since the Chakrams user was completely engrossed in his friendship with the younger boy, no longer snooping about as Saïx had ordered him.

Having much experience in those areas of being betrayed and betraying, it was amusing, to say the least, watching their friendship of twenty years dilapidate in a decrepit bracket of time.

The Nocturne-

A chortle escaped his lips as he remembered the times when they had quarreled over petty things, as being called old- the most recurring topic- the laziness of the musician, who possessed no interest in anything besides strumming that sitar of his. To this day, Xigbar was thoroughly puzzled as to why the Cloaked Schemer had the mullet-head join their numbers, as well as why Xemnas hadn't abated him when he clearly lacked the attributes and qualities of a Seeker. Though he wouldn't complain; there was no one left to abate now.

Xigbar pressed his lips tightly together as his eye fell upon the Gambler of Fate's gleaming red marker. With his benighted.. companions now callous and heartless, all there was left for them to do was simply reminisce over their past selves, and forlornly long for what they had lost. But the Sniper was not like the four oblivious apprentices. Yes, occasions of him questioning his traitorous actions occurred more than once, but he knew that he had crossed the line, and there was no turning back. So he had thought.

Now he, the Gambler, was a breath of fresh air to the Castle, to Xigbar. Beneath the countless shades of concealment and deceptiveness, the byzantine did wish for someone that he could simply converse with, with no past relation involved. And one day, as if the celestial beings had pitied the man with an inexorable route to stride, he and the Luna Diviner strolled in their premises. Upon being acquainted with the Nobody, the Freeshooter immediately took a liking to him. Not an adolescent nor cantankerous 'teenager' unlike ranks 7-9, but a middle-aged man with a rather eccentric persona and a guilty-pleasure for gambling- both the sport and the act of taking risks in whatever. They became more than co-workers, but less than friends; the Gambler never telling the Gunsman of his past life unless through cryptic comments and arcane reactions to certain matters.

He wouldn't deny that he had enjoyed all three's company.

Though he shouldn't be.

He turned away from the sight.

The Scythe, the Knives, the Keyblade on his right.

Two red. One blue.

From the enlistment of the Graceful Assassin, Xigbar had always sensed an aura from the young adult. Perhaps it was because he was too calm and too polite, but the one-eyed baron had kept close watch over him- most likely why he hadn't been all that startled when news arrived that all members sent to Castle Oblivion were annihilated.

With XII's grave below him, he then snorted, recalling a time when the nymph had cast her middle finger at his face after he had teasingly made an amorous jest. The Savage Nymph, despite being belligerent and sadistic, possessed a side of her that no-one in the Organization knew except for Xigbar: her weak side. Melancholic, lost, and lachrymose she was when he had discovered her bloodied figure. In the wilderness, her cyan eyes so hollow and lifeless, absent of that ferocity that had claimed her silhouette in a voltage of time.

XIII.

Xigbar was forced to pause and question how he felt about the adolescent: he preferred him over his Somebody counterpart- that he was sure of. His times in the Organization and betrayal effected little to nothing to the legerdemain, aside from the unfortunate fact that there was no one in the Castle to call Tiger. He had attempted the bestow the name to the aqueous pacifist, but his reaction was not as humorous as it's previous victim.

Other than those commons facts, yes, the 13th member was somewhat gregarious and amiable after sprouting a persona when his dragging period of amnesia had passed. A tad oblivious and naïve, thanks to the Pyro's habits and dispositions- or simply how he raised the Nobody that were foundations for his character.

Nonetheless, Xigbar couldn't say he disliked the Keybearer-

He glanced down at the Key of Destiny's blue tombstone.

-But what would his opinion do, exactly?

Reemerging onto the lonesome pathway, the Freeshooter shut his eye and exhaled deeply, intuitively knowing the next line of graves would be more strenuous than the previous. Opening his yellow iris to the gloomy reality, he furrowed his eyebrows, stressful at the burgeoning remorse already littering his nonbeing.

Why was he doing this?

Why now, of all years, of all days, of all times..


End file.
